The Plan to Save the Villainess Supporting Actress [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 30.2

Zhu Ran’s hands faltered for a second before she gave a soft, lingering reply.

It wasn’t until she was pulled onto the bed that she leaned into Nan Zhi’s ear and whispered, “We still have the performance tomorrow…”

The rest of her words were swallowed by a deep, tender kiss.

The moonlight was like water, illuminating the silhouettes of the two lovers leaning against each other and the thick, low whispers of the night.

After a night of satisfaction, the little fluffball was finally allowed to power on.

Ignoring the System’s frantic screeching, Nan Zhi uploaded the long post to the System interface.

[Post this right when we go on stage tonight.]

[So soon?]

Nan Zhi narrowed her eyes. The plum rain season had completely passed, and midsummer had arrived. It was time to settle scores with Shen Jiaying and the Shen family.

Standing on the performance stage for the second time, Nan Zhi’s heart was still a whirlwind of complex emotions. Amidst the feverish screams of the fans, Gao Hongzhe announced the members of the next group.

Before the lights dimmed, Nan Zhi gently squeezed Zhu Ran’s hand.

Zhu Ran turned her head. The spotlight from the front filtered through the curtain, catching the side of Nan Zhi’s face. She looked like a fairy who had just descended from the Milky Way, the stardust still clinging to her skin. The girl, with her hair in twin braided pigtails, exaggeratedly mouthed two words:

“Go for it.”

Zhu Ran smiled faintly and squeezed back. Ahead was infinite starlight; by her side was finally a fellow traveler.

“…Nan Zhi, and Leader Zhu Ran! Let’s welcome, with a round of applause, the collaboration stage brought by Mentor Bi Junyu and the trainees—Daylight!”

“Nan Zhi! Quick, quick, get to your position!! What are you doing!”

A staff member turned around only to find one person missing from the lift. Looking closer, she had actually run over to Zhu Ran’s side to hold hands!

“Coming, coming!” Nan Zhi scurried back to the lift.

The lights plunged into darkness. The staff member sighed in relief and pressed the button on the console. The moment the lights flared back to life, five silhouettes rose slowly with the platform.

“Do you also carry resentment and regret?” “Unwilling to admit that dreams must end here?” ①

The opening was still Zhu Ran.

Her exceptionally clear and ethereal voice rang out, but the style was completely different from The Fool. While The Fool carried a sense of extreme sorrow and emptiness, Daylight was filled with power. Just as the lyrics suggested, she carried her unwilling spirit, moving closer and closer to her dreams with every step.

If Zhu Ran in The Fool sang of a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, the Zhu Ran in Daylight was a phoenix deciding to dive into the flames. She no longer feared the road ahead; she would break every obstacle.

Her crystal-clear singing contained an unyielding stubbornness and infinite energy, reaching every listener in the stadium. Zhu Ran was a natural-born singer.

In the latter half of the track, the music became more turbulent and soaring. After a moment of silence, amidst the explosive bass, the music giant Bi Junyu let out a powerful high note. What was even more shocking was that Zhu Ran perfectly matched his range. Their high notes harmonized flawlessly; the fans below held their collective breath, afraid to disturb the magic.

The thick, powerful male voice and the stubborn, resilient female voice had the momentum to lift the roof off the stadium. Every note made the heart tremble. This wasn’t a competition; the two of them had forcibly turned this stage into a high-level concert.

As the song ended, the stadium fell into a brief hush before erupting into the loudest applause of the night. The five trainees held hands with Bi Junyu and bowed.

A familiar warmth came from her palm. Behind the spraying pyrotechnics, Nan Zhi tilted her head and gave Zhu Ran a radiant, passionate smile. They stood there, hands tightly clasped, beneath the fireworks and amidst the cheers.

Nan Zhi blinked softly. In the reality hidden by the original plot, Zhu Ran would eventually reach her own peak.

Far from the celebratory atmosphere of the stadium, the long post edited by Nan Zhi quietly appeared on the front page of a popular “Douzi” forum.

[??? Is this tea for real?] [My god, if this is true, Zhu Ran is way too pitiful!] [The Shen family is disgusting. Shen Jiaying actually has the face to talk about being ‘sisters’ with Zhu Ran? What a huge Green Tea Bitch, holy crap!] [How can you tell? Are you just projecting?] [Reply to above: You don’t follow 101, do you? When Zhu Ran went viral, netizens dug up her background. The pointers in this post are incredibly obvious.] [Exactly. And after Zhu Ran got famous, didn’t the Shen family’s company clout-chase for a wave of heat? I even bought stuff from their livestream. Thinking back makes me feel like I ate sh*t! Scammers, refund me!] [I bought stuff too +1. The products were terrible, but I wanted to support local industry. I didn’t expect this behind the scenes. Poor Zhu Ran.] [In this case, can we call the police?]

By the time the second performance ended, the post had not only exploded on the forums but hit #1 on the real-time search trends across all major platforms.

The post revealed that when Zhu Ran was seven, her father died in a traffic accident during a business trip. At the time, the Shen and Zhu families co-managed a company, with Shen Yan and Zhu Ran’s father each holding 30% of the shares. After the accident, the 30% passed to Zhu Ran, to be held by a guardian until her adulthood.

Shen Yan adopted Zhu Ran to get those shares—that much was standard. But for some reason, on the day Zhu Ran turned 18, she signed an agreement to gift the 30% to Shen Jiaying. The contract shown by the poster revealed that not only did she “voluntarily” gift them, but she also personally took on over 4 million in taxes resulting from the transfer.

[You mean Zhu Ran paid 4 million herself just to give the shares to Shen Jiaying?!] [No! Look closer—that 4 million was a loan from the Shen family! With compound interest, it’s over 7 million now!] [Above is wrong—it was 7 million as of 2018. Based on the interest on the IOU, in 2026 it should be over ten million.] ② [? Is this something a human being would do, holy crap.] [Look further down, the contract with her agency is also insane.]

It wasn’t just insane. The post detailed that Zhu Ran’s contract was completely different from Shen Jiaying’s. Despite being in the same company, the treatment was worlds apart. Shen Jiaying’s income split was 70/30, while Zhu Ran’s was 10/90—and that 10% was funneled into the Shen family’s accounts.

Essentially, Zhu Ran hadn’t earned a cent in years. She was a total labor slave. Though both were trainees, Zhu Ran had been repeatedly sent by the company to perform as a resident singer at high-end bars they owned. Reports mentioned these bars made substantial profits. Many stars performed there for at least 50k per show, but all of Zhu Ran’s performances were free.

[Wtf, was Zhu Ran brainwashed? Why did she let this family suck her blood like that!]

Don’t worry, the poster’s tea was comprehensive.

The post included five medical reports for Shen Jiaying. Except for the first one showing a minor inflammation, all other indicators were normal. Shen Jiaying had fallen into water as a child and had lied to Zhu Ran ever since, claiming she had permanent sequelae. This was used to mentally control Zhu Ran for over a decade.

This led to Zhu Ran sinking into deep agony, as shown by a physical exam report from when she entered the camp. Zhu Ran had suffered from severe depression, including hallucinations and auditory delusions. A doctor’s report suggested inpatient treatment and listed three types of medication. All were rejected by her guardian, who claimed Zhu Ran was “perfectly healthy” and didn’t need help.

Yes, an adult woman was still unable to choose her own medical care; everything was dictated by her “guardian.” The post also questioned the show’s production: why wasn’t Zhu Ran given timely treatment? Was there a deal with the Shen family? (Evidence of bribery followed).

Finally, the post included testimonies from middle and high school classmates. While the teachers’ reviews of Shen Jiaying were positive, they all pointed to one conclusion: Zhu Ran was an incredibly silent child who obeyed her sister’s every word. Her nickname back then? Shen Jiaying’s Roomba. As soon as Shen Jiaying pressed a button, Zhu Ran would move.

[F*ck her! How can someone be so evil at such a young age! What has Zhu Ran been through all these years? I’m literally crying.] [Just a passerby, but after hearing her sing ‘The Fool,’ I finally understand where that sense of ‘brokenness’ comes from. She really has suffered so much. sigh.jpg] [No wonder she thanked Nan Zhi and said Nan Zhi taught her to love herself. I’m speechless!] [Zhu Ran solo fan + Nan Zhi hater here. I used to hate their CP fans, but now I just want to thank Nan Zhi. Truly, thank you.]

The post went on to analyze the “mental control” during the show.

First, Zhu Ran’s initial evaluation stage vs. the short video filmed by Nan Zhi. At 1:33, Zhu Ran clearly went off-key. But the original song was simple; with her skill, how could she miss?

Then, the theme song evaluation vs. The Fool. In The Fool, everything was live. Even when the dance difficulty increased, Zhu Ran’s voice remained rock steady while others faltered.

But in the official episode, before the theme song evaluation, Shen Jiaying had a five-minute talk with Zhu Ran. At 23:51, Shen Jiaying approached them, said something, and Nan Zhi walked away looking worried. Comparing the shots, before Nan Zhi left, Zhu Ran looked firm and normal. After talking to Shen Jiaying, her expression on stage was terrible. She lost her basic expression management and eventually stopped dancing entirely.

The poster also “accidentally” obtained an audio clip: Static, then a middle-aged man’s voice: “Jiaying, don’t worry. She made the mistake herself; what does it have to do with you?” “But Dad, she fainted. I’m afraid the show will use this for hype and involve me…” “Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything to her. It’ll be fine.” “Dad! Just listen to me!” “Alright, alright. If Jiaying says it, how could I disagree? I’ll call the person in charge right now.” “Will… will that cost a lot of money?” “What is a little money?” the man sneered. “Zhu Ran wants to make a name for herself? Let her. Once she makes money, won’t it still go to my darling girl?” Shen Jiaying acted spoiled: “Dad, I don’t want her to succeed. Your daughter is the protagonist.”

The post concluded by introducing Shen Jiaying’s other “tool”: Shao Xiling. If Zhu Ran was the trash can for Shen Jiaying’s frustrations, Shao Xiling was the hammer she used to strike others. The post detailed the destruction of the violin and costumes. Finally, Nan Zhi released Shao Xiling’s original “manifesto” but marked every slanderous lie about Zhu Ran with a big red “FAKE.” A lawyer’s letter was attached—Nan Zhi was suing Shao Xiling for defamation, slander, and personal attack.

Zhu Ran looked up in disbelief at the director and Xu Silan.

“This… I really didn’t write this.”

Xu Silan’s expression was grim. “Of course it wasn’t you. I’m asking you—is what’s written in here true?”

Zhu Ran pursed her lips and, after a long silence, nodded.

A collective gasp filled the room. Xu Silan crushed her cigarette, her eyes freezing. “Animals!”

“And you guys!” she turned to the production team. “Taking bribes? You dared to invite me?!”

Director Jiang almost knelt. “Please, calm down! How would I dare to trick you? Or your senior?”

Bi Junyu smiled thinly, saying nothing.

“And there’s Xiao Gao! He has so many fans; how would I dare offend him! I really didn’t know about this. If I did, I wouldn’t have filmed it!” Director Jiang swore to the heavens.

Xu Silan sneered. Zhu Ran looked at the iPad, feeling that this post had something to do with Nan Zhi. She’d have to ask her later.

“Go back for now. We need to discuss this. Now that we know it’s true, we can’t let it go.” Director Jiang patted her shoulder. “You’ve worked hard, Xiao Zhu.”

Zhu Ran froze. Xu Silan, as cold and elegant as ever, walked over in her high heels. “Stand up.”

Zhu Ran stood. The next second, the cool mint scent of the woman’s cigarette enveloped her as Xu Silan patted her back twice. “You’ve held on well. Leave the rest to the adults.”

Zhu Ran’s nose tickled with a sudden urge to cry. It turned out her life really had been very hard.

Downstairs at the dorm, a figure was half-hidden in the darkness. The girl’s once sweet face was contorted with distortion. In the gap of her oversized sleeve, the tip of a fruit knife glinted with a cold light.

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